Sayings Better Left Unsaid
by MistressOfImladris
Summary: Glorfindel learns the hard way that not everyone appreciates his little day-to-day sayings.


Elladan sighed restlessly and turned over in bed. It was late at night and he missed Elrohir.

It had been his duty to write up four reports on the four separate main patrols. Unfortunately, he had forgotten about them and so he had scrambled to write four accurate reports in a few hours' time the day before. They arrived on Elrond's desk three days late.

Had they been on time, Elladan could have accompanied his twin to Lórien to bring a message to the lord and lady of that realm. But fate – as usual – had been unkind to him, and Elrohir had left only an hour before Elrond received the tardy reports.

As punishment for his failure to hand in the papers on time, Elladan had been set to preparing lists of participants for every patrol for the next two weeks.

Such was the luck of Elladan Peredhil. He sighed again. It was nothing new.

Thinking these morose thoughts, Elladan dropped off to sleep.

A while later he was shaken awake. As his eyes grew clear again, he recognised his father standing over him.

'What time is it?' he murmured.

'Nearly midnight,' Elrond replied. 'Come. I have something to show you.'

'Can it not wait until morning?' Elladan griped.

Elrond laughed. 'It will be morning in ten minutes,' he said. 'And no, it will not last more than five hours, at the most. The stars are spectacular, for it is a clear night.'

Elladan groaned and rolled out of bed, landing in an unceremonious heap at Elrond's feet, who stepped back just in time.

After untangling himself from his twisted covers, Elladan followed Elrond out into the family gardens.

Elrond had spoken the truth: the night was clear, the stars shone brightly, and the moon was full.

Elladan and Elrond found several of the constellations: Telparion, the great Tree surrounded by a bright halo of stars, the Mace of Melkor, and the Gates of Mandos. They also tracked part of the journey of Eärendil in Vingilot.

It was nearing one o'clock when Elladan and Elrond made any move to return to the House.

As they walked by the Hall of Fire, they noted that there were still several Elves listening to music and telling tales, among them Lindir and Erestor.

The two Peredhils, however, were finding it increasingly difficult to stay awake, and so passed quietly by.

In the hallway outside Elladan's room, Elladan bid his father good night. Glancing down the hallway, he saw Glorfindel coming towards them.

'Good night, Glorfindel!' he called softly.

'Good night, Elladan,' Glorfindel responded, smiling.

Once Elladan had disappeared into his room, Glorfindel turned to Elrond. 'I congratulate, you, mellon nin,' he said. 'I did not think it possible that such a mischievous child could turn out so well.'

'Well –' Elrond began.

'I know, I know,' Glorfindel interrupted. 'Miracles do happen. At least they did with his father. Now _there_ was a handful for the poor soul watching over Elladan's father.'

'Yes inde–' Elrond began again before realising what his golden-haired friend had been saying. 'Glorfindel, you will pay for that! I promise!'

Glorfindel laughed. 'Nay, I do not fear. You do not remember your old tricks. Now I am going to enjoy myself in the Hall of Fire. Good morrow.'

Elrond did not reply. Glorfindel was right, he admitted to himself as he continued down the hall to his room. He did not remember all the complicated tricks and traps he and Elros used to rig up.

'He can do extra paperwork for a year,' Elrond decided out loud.

Glorfindel enjoyed the music and tales for another half hour before retiring, yawning, to his chambers.

He opened his bedroom door and stopped as he heard something shift on the door frame.

 _Splash!_

The pail of water hung on his doorframe tipped, the ice-cold water catching Glorfindel full in the face, causing him to gasp. It drenched him completely.

Glorfindel let out a furious yell, not caring it was one-thirty in the morning. 'Elladan Peredhil!'

There were hurried footsteps and Glorfindel turned to see Elladan in front of him, gaping like a fish.

'Gl-Glorfindel?'

'You little–' Glorfindel seethed. He grabbed his pitcher from the nightstand and aimed its contents at the younger Elf.

A sudden outbreak of hysterical laughter came from behind Glorfindel, causing him to drop the china pitcher, where it smashed on the floor. The water in it only served to soak Glorfindel further.

'It was you!' Glorfindel cried, recognising the laughing Elf.

Elrond.

'It was. I am afraid my son is more like me than you know, Glorfindel. Perhaps I can no longer bring off the pranks my sons do, but I can still take my revenge (when I so choose) on those who insult me.' Elrond came to stand beside Elladan, who had broken into confused giggles. 'I believe you owe my son an apology,' he said, wrapping an arm around Elladan's shoulders. 'He has been wrongly accused.'

Glorfindel, however had no intention of apologising. He stood in haughty silence, water dripping from the end of his nose.

Elladan spoke up. 'I believe I can boost your spirits, or, if you will, warm your heart, for you do look cold: if I remember correctly, one of your favourite sayings is, 'He who laughs last laughs best.''

Glorfindel growled something unintelligible.

'Not to mention a second of your sayings–' Elrond put in, and paused.

Elladan knew exactly where his father was going with this.

'– Like father, like son!' the two chorused.

Glorfindel (literally) stormed into his room to the sound of laughter. Thirty minutes later he exited his bathing chamber. He noticed a slip of paper on the floor by the door.

In three different languages, Sindarin, Quenya, and the Angerthas, it said:

'When it rains, it pours. When fathers, like sons, are angered, rain pours from doors.'

Glorfindel felt strangled. He would never repeat a saying again, certainly not in the presence of a Peredhil. Those ones had strange senses of humour.

The End

 **A/N:** Erm... What can I say? Nothing. On the other hand, if you have something to say after reading this, please say it, be it praise, criticism, or flames. Flames will be used to make soup for lunch.


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